


The Ignition Switch

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Broken Saber [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo has the Force, and he wants to know why. However, it's not the most important thing to him, and he's surprised (but pleased) to find that out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ignition Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



> I apologise for the delay in posting this. It's for two reasons. One's the very real shoulder injury I sustained (which most of you likely know about) and the other is that this series is very, very difficult for me to write. I hope it continues to meet up to your expectations. I'm always terrified to my core when I post a section of this story, so thank you for everyone who follows me through with this.

Kylo has the Force again. He doesn’t know how, or why. Those questions can wait, because it’s the _what_ that matters, for the moment. He lies in bed with his - with his - boyfriend? And the smile on his face is earnest, though restrained. He’s not felt such unbridled happiness in a very long time, and if he’s honest, it’s not just because he can now see the bright glow that surrounds Poe Dameron, or feel his emotions like that faint, blurry halo that leaks out into the world around anything powerful enough. 

It’s pretty damn incredible that he has the Force back, and it means he’s _useful_ again, but he guesses it’s also somewhat telling that it’s of secondary importance to him. First and foremost: Poe. 

Because Poe loved him without the Force. And because Poe loved him no matter how broken or flawed he was. Poe, who is now - who… they’re a _couple_. Or something. All those years of wanting, and knowing it wasn’t possible… No half-love. That had been the promise. Not half-hearted, half-empty partnership, but one with the pedal to the metal. Full-throttle. Hurtling through hyperspace love. 

Kylo has loved Poe for as long as he’s been able to feel the emotion. He has, and now… now it is right, at last. Now he no longer has to keep his very, very expansive heart in check. He doesn’t have to worry that his love is wrong, or forbidden, or excessive, or dangerous. Poe wants it, Poe accept it, accepts _him_. And that’s what matters. This - this relationship - works for _them_. Maybe there’s bad parts, or parts that hurt, but they both want to try, and for the first in the longest time he feels a real hope about the future. A real one, not a terrified, flickering light that needs him to curl around and protect from the elements. A flame that licks higher, fuelled in part by Poe’s own heart.

He loves him, Poe loves him back, the Force is here, he’s - if not **whole** , then _healing_ \- and there’s a real chance, now. Two Jedi, plus him, against Snoke. And if Kylo can be loved, if he can be forgiven, if he can feel the Force, then perhaps he stands a chance after all.

“What comes next?” Poe asks.  


“I need to speak to my mother, and my uncle. And then we take this fight to his door.”  


Poe nods. He’s afraid, so Kylo holds his face and kisses him as lightly as he can. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassures him, feeling the cold vice of uncertainty seizing the older man. 

His pilot curls in tighter, the fear still there. “I hope so.”

Despite his happy hope, he can’t just leave Poe feeling upset without trying to help. Even if it adds a sour tone to what’s going on, he can’t just pretend it’s not there, just to revel in his moment of victory. “What… what are you afraid of?”  


He doesn’t answer immediately, shaking his head in refusal. When that doesn’t wash, Poe laughs, sadly. “ _Everything_.” 

Kylo grips his neck, and shakes his own head. Poe is the fearless one. Poe is the brave one, the one who you look to in an emergency. He doesn’t do _fear_ , so when he does… “You don’t need to be. Or… if you are afraid, don’t… don’t let it stop you. Fear kept me under _his_ control for almost thirty years.”

But the other man doesn’t look galvanised by this speech, which makes his stomach sink. 

“I just got you back, Ky. I can’t lose you.”  


“You’re not going to.”  


“Yeah? You going up against that bastard seems pretty dangerous to me.”  


A little flicker of sadness that Poe doesn’t, somehow, trust him sparks in his chest. That he trusted him Force-less, but not… now? When he couldn’t do any more damage he was okay, but now he’s a contender again, he’s as bad as he was before, or close. “Don’t you think I need to? Not just to protect the galaxy, but for my own safety, for yours?”

Poe’s eyes are so very sad. “I get that you _need_ to, but why should I feel happy about you risking your neck? About you - about you facing someone who hurt you?”   


The euphoria starts to ebb, and Kylo nearly cries out at the way the high is already breaking. This - this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be happy. Poe was supposed to be _happy_ for him, and hopeful for the future, but all he can sense through their connection is a murky confusion, and the tight lines around them slowly start to unravel. He panics, and tries to reach out with the Force to shore them up, but they’re not a tangible thing. It’s their hearts, and he feels Poe withdraw from him. _Feels_ it. 

Dread kicks in, a fear that he will _leave_. A fear that this is **it**. He opens himself so far, Poe finally _does_ see in, and he recoils in horror. Kylo isn’t sure how he could keep going, if that happened. He doesn’t, and–

 _He didn’t miss this._  Didn’t miss how it felt when someone else’s distress was so overwhelming and it seeped into his own heart. The way he had to keep away from people, or learn how to cut his own emotions off completely on demand, just to function. He can’t stop the little choked sound, the agony of it hitting like a punch to the gut. Worse. Claws.

“Kylo?”  


“No.. I… just give me a minute.” He slips out from his arms, and goes into the ‘fresher. Turns the cold water running, and grips the basin in both hands. He closes his eyes, using the Force to send the spray sideways to hit the inner rim of the bowl, and let it swirl in a whirlpool down the drain. Little things. Little things to focus on. To keep his attention on something other than the rising panic, and to show he still has the fine control.  


“Ky.” The voice is quiet, like its owner.   


“I’m okay,” he lies.  


“No. I… I’m sorry.”  


“I said I’m okay, Poe. I just need a minute. This is…”  


“You don’t need me any more.” It sounds like a resigned confession, it sounds like an end. The irony is not lost on him, considering only hours ago he was trying to finish things himself. Kicking at their connection to prove it would break, and relieved when it didn’t.  


But now Poe is kicking, and Kylo isn’t so sure he can demand Poe stays, not the same. He thought - he thought - when Poe wanted to stay he thought that meant he was _worth this_ , but now…

Kylo freezes. “What?”

Poe’s standing in the doorway, gripping his arm with his other hand, across his body. His shorter frame made shorter still, his jaw set into an unpleasantly grim line of forced determination. Kylo watches him in the mirror. “You got the Force. You don’t… you don’t need a pilot.”

“Poe… what makes you think I– you do realise I don’t care?”  


His boyfriend ducks his head. “You will.”

“What was it you asked me, not - not even a day ago? _If I’d stop loving you if you couldn’t fly_?”   


“Yeah.”  


“You think, somehow, that if I have the Force again, I won’t love you?” Kylo frowns. “Or… or… you… preferred me… without?”  


Poe won’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess I felt more like I could protect you, before. And like you wouldn’t get yourself hurt. And… Kylo. You’re amazingly powerful, and I–”

He cuts the water out, and walks right up to him. “Did you think I was less worthy of love, when I was even ‘less’ than you are, now?”

“It’s not the–”  


“Did you love me because I depended on you?” Kylo isn’t wholly sure he wants to know the answer, because he’s most assuredly worried what the answer will be. He thought Poe had loved him because of himself, but maybe he just wanted the kudos, the cachet of a broken Jedi hanging from his fingertips.   


Like Snoke. 

Poe tries to leave the room, and he takes hold of his wrist. 

“See,” the shorter man says. “You thought your love was sick. Turns out mine’s _worse_. I’m jealous of the love of my life. Guess I always was.” Poe’s voice is choked with self-loathing, and Kylo hurts to hear it. 

“So was I.” If they’re doing this, Kylo will go for broke.   


“Babe, what in the galaxy do you have to be jealous of in _me_?”  


“Plenty of things. How everyone loves you, because you’re actually **that** nice. How you walk in a room and heads turn. How people _listen_ to you, trust you. How you seem so calm and together, and how - how you knew what you wanted to be, and you went, and you did it. You didn’t…”  


“No one really head-hunted me, Kylo.”  


“And nor would they. You ever, once, consider defecting?”  


Poe’s ready to snap a rude rejection, but he obviously works out that it would be impolite, considering. So he shakes his head, slowly. “No. But I didn’t join the Resistance for years. I was… I was too angry, too disillusioned.”

“You joined them sooner than me. And you risked your life - over and over.”  


“I’m–”  


“What, Poe? You really think I care if you can float a spanner across the room? You think I’m that much of an asshole? Do you love me for who I _am_ , or what I can do?”  


“See.” Eyes closed. “You even have to ask.”  


“You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel inadequate?” Kylo snorts, and tugs harder on his wrist. “Even when I had the Force, I felt it. And then when I lost it, I was _nobody_. And you still came to save me.”  


Poe tenses, and then allows himself to be pulled closer, surrendering for the time being. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”  


“Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”  


“I let you feel like you were less than glorious,” Kylo says, and slides an arm around him. “When you’re so amazing. You… you fight fiercer, and love deeper, than people who have the Force. **You** face the world with what you have, and you do more than anyone could ever expect or demand from you, Poe.”

“Like… you… and the Knight?”  


“Precisely like. And just because I am back to my old self, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. It doesn’t mean I _need_ you any less. And it doesn’t mean you **matter**  any less.” Kylo doesn’t know why, of a sudden, he has to be the one to calm Poe down, and he’s also afraid he’s doing it wrong, but he loves the man so very dearly that he’d do anything to make him feel better.

Maybe he’s the worst pep-talk person ever, but he also doubts Poe would allow such weakness to come out to anyone else. He’s the _leader_ , after all. If they see he’s weak, then his pilots will trust him less. He knows, suddenly, how lonely the person on top of the ladder must always be. 

“It’s… come-down,” Poe whispers, as he cuddles himself in tight against Kylo, allowing more of the comfort in. The weird tension on the bond - the stretching - eases slightly, like Poe’s no longer fighting it so hard. “Post-battle blues. Pilots get them a lot. Your adrenaline goes up, your body rushes through things, and everything is louder, brighter. Then after…”   


“After, you pay the price for the energy you used?” Kylo asks.  


“Yeah. The come-down from the adrenaline in your system kicks you. And then - because you felt so _good_ …”  


Kylo thinks that through, and his hands rub slow, comforting circles. “It was artificially high, so when you come back down to normal, you’re addicted to how good it felt. And now ‘normal’ levels of good are… disappointing?”

“You get it, don’t you? That’s… that’s why we were so upset before. And then…”  


“Then I - ah. I edged you back up, and dropped you all over again.” Kylo understands, somewhat. He remembers feeling utterly washed out after big triumphs. There was that sense of: _I did it, but now it’s worse than before?_ Seeing it as a product of hormones, of shifted priorities, of massively unequal moments throwing out the normal sense of levels and what ‘good’ was… why didn’t he ever work that out before? He’d thought it was something innately wrong in him, to be unable to stay happy and accomplished, to forever be chasing the next peak.   


Poe sounds relieved, but still a little worried. At least he’s calming, if it’s a slow process. “Yeah. So. If I act like an asshole, while…”  


Kylo kisses his hair. “You can act like an asshole, you know. Even you get to have bad days.”

“I’m still happy for you. But that won’t stop worrying. Force crap is what… is what took you from me the first time. I couldn’t help then, and I worry I can’t help, now.”  


He hadn’t thought about that. He’d seen the Force as something he needed to be _him_ , or to be **strong** , and he hadn’t thought how it could be a legitimate risk to his continued safety, having it back again. Snoke is still out there, and until he’s gone, he’ll be vulnerable. Maybe even more so, now. 

Poe’s freak out suddenly makes a lot more sense. Kylo… is glad, now, that it happened. “I promise, this time, I’ll talk it through with you. All… all my worries. If you will do the same with me. I don’t… I don’t think hiding things helps either of us.”

“Yeah. No. I agree.” Poe’s juddery, like his body is detoxing from the adrenaline all at once. “It - it… we both gotta do it. I don’t… want to hide things from you. But… I need you to know, if I am upset, or angry, or… or… anything? It might not be **at** you.”  


“I can… yes. I can accept that.” He feels a lot better, now the sudden _flight_ instinct is over, and he suspects it’s going to be a little easier each time. He has never had to be honest and open about things that worry him before, but he can tell it’s helping.   


“Can we go back to bed? I kinda just want to lie down with you, for a bit.”

Kylo scoops Poe up, much to his shorter lover’s squawks of unconvincing protest. “Nothing would delight me more.”

***

It turns out that ‘turning off and on again’ works for people, too. In the morning, Poe is much calmer. Kylo basks in the moments before he wakes, feeling the ease and comfort. Maybe it’s dangerous for him to be so closely linked to someone else’s feelings, so contingent upon their happiness to feel happy himself, but he can’t exactly help it. He’s always been attuned to others, it just happens to be deeper with Poe. 

Then there’s the part where ‘normal’ people probably feel the same, right? He can’t imagine his father was ever in a wonderful mood when his mother was upset. When you care about someone… seeing them hurting, hurts. He just happens to feel it in a more visceral way than the majority.

Poe wakes, and Kylo smiles.

“Hey.”  


“Hey.”  


“Is it late?”  


“…I actually have no clue what the base-standard time is, here,” Kylo confesses. “But I doubt anyone will be acclimatised, yet.”  


“Okay. So… we can probably still do breakfast and work out when we’re needed?”  


He nods. “We most certainly can.”

“I…” Poe bites his lip, anxiously. “I want to apologise. About last night. I should have been happy for you, but I was–”  


“Poe, it’s okay. You don’t ever need to apologise about how you feel about something. You can’t… you can’t _control_ how you feel. But you can control how you act, with those feelings in your heart.”  


His boyfriend laughs, kindly. “Well, I did act a bit like an ass. And when did you get so smart?”

“This wonderful pilot gave me a new perspective on reality. You should really try it.”  


“He sounds like a nice, smart guy.”  


Kylo pulls Poe on top of him, and slips arms and legs around his lover. “He is. You know what? He’s really kind. He tries really hard. Sure, he makes some mistakes, but he’s Human. And he wants to do better, and he tries to talk through when he feels shitty.”

“I need me a man like that.”  


“Yeah. Too bad he’s mine, and I don’t share.”  


Poe laughs, and kisses his temples. “Silly.”

“Guilty,” Kylo says, and then he’s forcibly rolled over, and Poe keeps going until they’re almost at the edge of the bed. “Not tired?”  


“Shower,” Poe says, and pushes at his legs with his feet. “You. Me. Together.”  


“That will possibly get in the way of breakfast…”  


“Then I’ll eat lunch. _Shower_.”  


Kylo grins. “Alright.”

***

After lunch, Kylo tells Poe it’s okay to go off and do pilot things. He knows Poe’s run away at a vital moment just for him, and he needed it. Actually, they both did. He suspects Poe’s crashing mood needed Kylo to lift it as much as Kylo needed Poe, so that’s something. He’d thought he was the one leaning forever on Poe, but… possibly the street has more traffic in the other direction than first expected.

He no longer worries Poe hates him for having the Force. It was a stupid insecurity, and now he can understand how Poe might feel envious of his gift, because he’s felt it often enough about Poe’s skills. He’s never wanted to deprive Poe _of_ them, just have them **too**. And he doubts Poe would ever be so cruel as to legitimately want Kylo to remain powerless, just to appease his own inadequacy. The fact he felt so terrible admitting to it tells Kylo as much. It’s difficult to cope when your heart feels something unpleasant.

A few quiet reassurances that the world won’t end if they’re apart for a few hours, and Poe relents and agrees to go back to work. It hurts Kylo to let him, but he knows they can’t live their lives holding hands. It just isn’t reasonable, even if it would be desirable. He’ll get Poe when the day is over.

The person he needs to see, though, is his mother. He makes polite enquiries, and he’s guided into her office to wait. He glances around as he waits, seeing the small signs of her. There’s boxes unpacked on shelves, and he wonders how many times her life has been uprooted so fast that packing the memories is now a fine art. He wonders how many keepsakes have been left behind, destroyed or captured, the threads of past cut loose and left waving in the stellar winds. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s trespassing when he opens the biggest box. Things inside have been swept in, and are jumbled inside. Lives are more important than memories, after all. There’s things in here (holos, medals, a wrist chrono) that go all the way back to Alderaan - her adoptive home, and one that no longer exists - and he recognises things of his, too, between other memories with other people.

She’d kept them, all of them. The stand he made for her holopad. The one his clumsy fingers had lovingly pushed little star cut-outs into. He knows without looking that underneath is scrawled in a childish hand: ‘To the best Mom love form Ben’. The error had always annoyed him, when he got older. A proof of a time when he’d been barely able to hold a stylus, a child with flaws. Now… he smiles. He wonders if it sat on her desk all along, or if she’d pushed it out of sight. It’s not exactly artisan work, and he’s long since grown to adulthood. No need to keep it to appease his childish pride.

Kylo looks up when she enters, and smiles. She walks over, and holds her hand out for the stand.

“Always pride of place,” she tells him, answering his question and putting it onto the desk.  


“You never doubted I would come back?”

“I doubted. But I knew you were still good, and I knew you were still my son. So I hoped.”  


He accepts that answer, with a respectful little nod. “Can you tell?”

She frowns, head to one side. “…no.”

“The Force, Mom. I… I have it again.”  


Her eyes go wide, then, and a smile splits her face. “That’s wonderful. Do you know how?”

“I was wondering if you could sense anything different about me, actually. I… don’t really understand it. Did… did I feel… broken, before?”  


His mother looks like she’s considering this, deeply. “You felt the same as ever. Sadder, older, but as bright in the Force. I’m not trained like Luke is, but I can tell a Force-sensitive.”

“…and… uh, I…?”  


“You always felt like one to me, B– Kylo.”  


“Do you think… do you think the Force was punishing me? Or… or that Snoke… could he even suppress it in me?”  


“Luke found some references to Force-suppressing items, but those were physical things. He also found there was… there was a punishment, in the old Order. If they believed someone was too dangerous, they would sunder their connection to the Force, in order to make them safe.”  


“I am assuming the latter was permanent?”  


Leia nods. “But we both thought you felt… normal. And Luke still had access to the Force when he was around you, so…”

“So it was me, and not… not an item, or something external.”  


“How did it come back?”  


“Poe and I… we… made a breakthrough in our relationship.” That’s tactful, right? “We have decided we want to give it our all. And… I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let me.”  


“He’s a good boy, you know. Man. Not boy. But he was always a good boy… he was a calming influence on you. I should have thought not to send you away from both of us.”  


Kylo reaches out to glance fingers across her arm. “I doubt staying would have done anything but delay the inevitable, and possibly also make you dislike me, more. I became… under Snoke’s influence, I was very unpleasant.” It is an understatement and a half. 

“I’m still happy you found each other. He’s got a good heart, and… it’s lovely to see you smile, son.”   


He does, at that. “Yeah. Well. Somewhere in all of that… it was like… it was like suddenly I woke up. Suddenly I could _feel_ again. I don’t know how, or why, but I felt… connected. And not just to the Force, but to him.” 

“You’re bound?” Her eyes open, and then she smiles wider. “I should have known. You were inseparable, when you were younger.”  


Kylo nods. “I think… I think…” He pulls at his sleeve. “I think maybe _I_ was what was stopping me. I… didn’t… I didn’t feel safe, as I was. I worried I would do horrible things again, and I… I didn’t trust myself to be good enough. I felt I didn’t deserve it, and…”

She reaches up to put her hand on his shoulder, and he watches her eyes. “You were trying to protect the world from yourself? You didn’t feel you could be trusted, so you made sure you had your… safety on?”

“…do you think it’s even possible for someone to do that?”   


“I think the Force is more complex than even the Jedi understand. And if you feel like you’re able to use it, and now you can… do we really need to know the truth of it? You’re ready. You have it.”  


“I am. And I do. And… I need to talk to Uncle Luke. I need to complete my training, mother.”  


“I’ll send him a message, right away.”  


Kylo bites his lip. “Do you think he will agree? To train me? After what happened last time?”

“He will. I know he will.”  


“Why?”  


“Because you’re ready.”  


Kylo gulps. He… he is. She’s right. He’s ready. 

“Thank you.”  


Leia pulls on his shoulder, pulls until he bends to press his forehead to hers. She has to stretch, he has to lean, but they manage it. 

“I’m so proud of you, you know. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done since you came back. And I want you to know, if you need someone to talk to… I will always listen. I’m still your mother, even if you’re Kylo.”  


He wraps his arms around her, then, and pulls her in so hard she yelps. A squeeze, and he doesn’t let go until she pats at his arm in frustration.

“I think there’s someone else I need to talk to, though,” he says, as he lets go of her.  


“Oh?”  


“Chewie. I… I need to talk to Chewie.”  


His mother nods. “I’ll get the word out. He’s… been keeping himself away since you came home, but I know where to find him.”

“Thank you - again. I can never thank you enough.”  


“You don’t need to. You came home.”  



End file.
